Hiss
by yassandra
Summary: She is a monster; she is cursed.


A/N Well I should be working on Chapter 17 of Child of Fortune or possibly one of the stories I'm supposed to be writing for this round of the Small Fandom Big Bang. Instead here I am with another one-shot - Medusa got into my head and didn't want to let me write anything else until I'd got this story down on paper... at least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! ;-)

It has been written for Round 7 of Hurt/Comfort Bingo on Live Journal and fills the prompt "Mutant" on my bingo card.

It's sort of a tag to episode 1.09 _Pandora's Box_. I hope you enjoy it :-)

* * *

It calls to her from across the room.

 _Medusa._

 _Medusa._

The voice is on the very edge of her hearing, it's words unclear, but she knows it is calling out to her.

 _Come to me, Medusa._

She has always thought of Hercules' house as something of a safe haven; a place of light and laughter; a warm and welcoming home.

Tonight it is in darkness. Not the friendly place she thinks of at all. One corner is burnt; the walls soot blackened; the floor charred. The smell of smoke hangs heavily in the air. Something has happened here in the last day that she doesn't know about; that there was no time for Hercules to tell her during her rescue.

 _Medusa._

 _I can give you all that you desire._

 _Medusa._

She is anxious; nervous; pacing up and down. Her recent treatment at Kyros' hands has unnerved her. She swallows hard and rubs her own arms uneasily as a chill sweeps over her.

What is keeping Hercules? He promised they would be right behind her but they haven't appeared yet. What if something has happened to them? What if Kyros has caught them? Or sends his men after her again?

She is being ridiculous, she decides. Jumping at shadows unnecessarily. Allowing her fears to rule her head.

She never had any doubts that Hercules and his friends would rescue her; they would never abandon her, she is sure. Yet the last couple of days have still taken their toll.

 _Medusa._

 _Find me._

The whispered voice comes again, still just a sibilant noise on the edge of her hearing; no real discernible words. Yet she knows without a doubt that it is calling to her; calling her to it. She jumps at the sound and spins around, looking for the source.

 _Medusa._

 _Medusa._

The sound is coming from the centre of the room; coming from the floor itself. Medusa needs to know what the voice is more than anything she has ever needed in her life before. She is drawn to it.

 _Come to me._

 _I can give you anything you want._

She can't quite work out where the voice is coming from.

Then she spots it.

The crack in the floorboards that shows there is a trapdoor below.

Crouching down and ducking under the edge of the table that covers it, she traces the line with her fingers.

She feels compelled to open it; to see what is within. This is where the voice is coming from and surely just a little look couldn't hurt anything.

 _Medusa._

 _Find me, Medusa._

The table looks heavier than it is and she pulls it to one side with relative ease.

She was right. It _is_ a trapdoor that it was covering.

She knows that she shouldn't really be all that surprised. Lots of older houses in Atlantis have these hidden storage spaces under the floor – although she's never quite worked out why. In most houses they are used for storing non-perishable food or the best tableware (used only on feast days) or spare linen.

This storage space is remarkably empty though, and yet its entrance was covered by the table and benches – perhaps in an attempt to conceal it from plain sight… which leads to the question: just what exactly do Hercules and the boys store in here?

There _is_ something here though; there must be.

 _Medusa._

 _Medusa._

She can hear the sibilant whisper ever more strongly but still can't quite make out the words properly; only knows that it is calling to her; drawing her in. She cannot resist and has no desire to.

In a moment she has jumped down into the largely empty storage space.

Where is it? Where is it?

She hears the whisper behind her once again – feels the pull of its power – and turns to find a small sack resting on a ledge.

 _You found me Medusa._

 _Now open me._

 _I can make all your fondest wishes come true._

It is a replica of the box that Jason threw at Kyros; a perfect copy.

Or perhaps she should say that that box was a perfect copy of this one?

Kyros was right, she decides. It _is_ such a simple little box – and yet it is beautiful too. She traces a finger over the lid, feeling the carvings under her fingertips. It has clearly been hidden here for a reason and yet why would anyone want to hide it?

 _Medusa._

She has to know what's inside. It must be something remarkable; something valuable and special.

What harm could one little peek do?

In wonder and desire she lifts the lid.

 _Ssssssss_

The whispering turns into a scream as a rush of air and _something_ escapes the box and hits her.

Medusa screams with it, although no sound escapes her.

She is beyond sight and sound; hearing only the screams of whatever it is was in the box; every nerve on fire.

The box falls to the floor on top of the sack it was wrapped in but Medusa doesn't notice it. She falls to the floor herself, still in the storage space, curled up into a ball as fire burns her from the inside out. Dimly she can feel her hair, the long thick plait that usually rests over her shoulder, burning away – disintegrating as though it never existed in the first place – but the pressure in her head won't let her concentrate on anything else.

Something is growing inside her skull; writhing around. It is agony.

She can feel her skull cracking as one by one the creatures in her head break free, splitting the skin of her scalp and growing outwards.

As suddenly as it began, the pain stops.

Medusa stands, tears still streaming down her face. All she can hear is the hissing of the snakes that wreath her head where once she had hair.

She is a monster; she is cursed.

And in this moment she knows that she must leave and leave quickly. She cannot bear for Hercules to see her like this; doesn't want him to see the creature she has become. He could return at any moment. She must leave now.

But where is she to go? She cannot remain in Atlantis; in the city where she has made her home ever since her friends rescued her from the maenads. If she is caught by the guards, they will think she is some kind of fiend; a beast that they will not hesitate to kill on the spot.

No, she must leave the city; must leave everything behind her.

She tears down the stairs and out into the street, pausing only to steal an old cloak from a washing line and throw it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up to hide the snakes from view.

Hearing pounding feet approaching, she ducks into an alleyway to avoid being seen. It is Hercules and his friends – Jason in the lead (as perhaps she should have expected) and Hercules puffing along in the rear – although still managing to keep up with his two, much younger, friends. They race past her hiding place and up the stairs into the house. Medusa knows that this is her chance; she should leave while they are still inside.

She must flee the city by the nearest gate but to get there she must go through the agora – at least the marketplace will be deserted this late at night; there will be no-one to see what she has become. She turns away from Hercules' house and runs down the street.

As she comes to the end though, a patrol rounds the corner. As they look at her, every one of them turns to stone; becoming statues where they stand. Medusa cannot help the scream that escapes her lips even though she knows it will draw the attention of anyone who hears it.

What sort of monster has she become?

She runs on, sobbing.

"Medusa!"

She hears Hercules' cry; knows that he is just behind her; knows that he will not give up until he has caught her.

Yet she cannot allow him to see her. If what happened to the patrol is anything to go by, he can never look on her again; he would be turned to stone and she cannot bear that thought. She must be dead to him; she must convince him of that.

She races on through the dark streets, careening around corners and hoping against hope that no-one else is in the streets tonight; that she will not harm another living soul. She trusts that she can run quicker than Hercules – that she has enough of a head start – although if Jason is with him she may be in trouble.

Finally in the agora, she scans her surroundings for a suitable hiding place. There. Knowing that Hercules was mere moments behind her, she dives behind an empty stall and prepares to say goodbye to everything and everyone she loves – sobbing all the time.

She is a monster; she is cursed.


End file.
